To My Readers . . and Then The Story Continues

First off, thank you all for sticking with me. :)

So yes! The book will, in the very near future, be available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, etc.

Did I plug that enough?

However, I'm going to continue to serialize the book on the blog. Eventually I'll put the first 3 chapters available for download from this site.

Why? Because I hate a 'bait and switch'. As a reader this would, to put it in the common, piss me off to no end were I following an author's work only to have them stop part of the way through and say 'Oh hey, you want to read the rest of the story you're gonna have to buy the book'.

So, starting today I will get back to my regular nonsense and keep posting to the end.

Enjoy!

Oh yeah . . . and buy my book when it comes out. :)

David

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Now, if you'll remember, we were sitting exhausted, wet, cranky and panicked high in the Canadian Rockies with a Grizzly behind us and a moose that was blocking our way to the Lodge.

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*** continued from previous post ***

So we sit there, two idiots on a touring bike in the middle of the Canadian Rockies, with the day dying around us, bookended by an insane killing machine dressed in a bear costume and a moose with a bad attitude. Prisoners awaiting execution have been less nervous. The moments tick by. The gloom deepens. It becomes readily apparent that Mrs. Moose, (It could be a Mr., but for the sake of the story let’s assume it's a female.), is in no particular hurry. Visions of us sitting in the dark, awaiting our death, come to mind.

"Hey, do you have cell phone reception here?", I ask, clinging to some futile hope.

"And just how is that going to help? You want to call the kids and say our last good-byes?"

"Good point."

Mom sighs, "We can't just sit here. This isn't good."

I honk the horn. I rev the engine. I hurl moosey-taunts into the evening air.

"Moose's scientific name is an echo! Alces alces? I've heard better names for Naked Mole Rats!" I squeal. "Moose so stupid she thinks the interwebs are a series of tubes!"

Zip reaction.

"Moose so stupid, they think . . . umm . . .", my mind draws a blank. I need a dynamite ending, and I'm reaching for air. "Umm . . . so stupid they can't use 'self-check' at the grocery store!"

Ha! Recover from that one, oh tall, brown, and lanky one!

"Do you really think that's going to help?"

"I have no idea."

Mom looks up the road, "Well it didn't. So, I ask again, what are we going to do?"

My mind races. "Okay, cross your arms, take my hands, and on the count of 3 throw them up in the air and clap against my palms while we shout, and this has to be in unison, we shout, 'Wonder Twins power activate! Form of a giant sloth!'”

Mom took a long time to answer.

"Did you ever go outside as a child, read a book, play a game, or did you live in front of the TV eating a steady diet of mental drek?"

"Drek? Drek? The Super Friends were, and are, not drek. As to my emotional and mental growth, and general well-being . . . well, that's a debate for another day, my dear. Right now, in case you haven't noticed, we are in, what the professionals like to call, 'a bit of a tight spot'."

"What 'professionals'?", Mom asks with what I thought was more than a bit of sarcasm.

"What?" I reply.

"You said 'professionals'. What kind of professionals would call this 'a bit of a tight spot'?"

Oh . . . now it made sense. It was clear your Mother, bless her little pea-pickin' heart, had been driven to insanity and I knew I had only myself to blame.

I slumped over the console, head to the side, revving the engine, honking the horn, flashing the lights. It was not my finest moment. Perhaps this display of patheticism would prompt the moose to find pity in its big, moosey heart and move on.

The moose looked at us and yawned.

*** the journey continues ***